a crash course into a duke's arms
by cheriper
Summary: SasuSaku. A respectable lady, needless to say a spinster, does an outrageous thing and turns her life around.


**a crash course into a duke's arms**

_London 1836_

"Do you have any preference, Lady Haruno? Fair head and lean, or dark hair with big built? Slightly older, or perhaps years younger?" Lady Haruno Sakura heard Madam Mihara ask before her face colored an interesting shade of pink, enough to rival the pastel rose color of her hair. She knew what she was getting into by going into this bordello, but the questions asked by the infamous courtesan Madam Mihara An was enough proof of her virginal state.

Hiding behind her eyes, she whispered. "I-I don't really have such specific preferences."

Madam Mihara looked solemnly at her. After years and years of being in this prolific industry, she knew how it felt for ladies groomed to be pure and chaste to surrender themselves to the dark and evil side. It was a side which was clearly forbidden by the rules of society and perhaps to some, morality. "If I may ask Lady Haruno, are you by any chance a virgin?"

And here Sakura thought it was obvious from her constant blushing.

Madam Mihara seemed to understand her even before she spoke, as the older woman just laughed at her blushing face before continuing. "Well, please be assured that our service will be satisfactory to your expectations, should there be any. Even more than satisfactory, if I may say so myself." She chuckled before tapping Sakura lightly on the shoulder. "There's nothing to be afraid of, milady. We only cater the best goods in all of England."

"I only want a promise of discreetness from you, Madam Mihara. I'm afraid of what my Mama might do should she find out about what I'll be doing." A shadow of gloom passed through Sakura's face. "It's been so long since I tasted freedom. And with my impending spinsterhood, my Mama—bless her kind soul—would surely imprison me to her side. I mean, I love her with all my heart, but you know how mothers are. Sometimes, they are just too overbearing."

"I understand, dear child." There was something in Madam Mihara's melancholic smile that forebodes a past filled with wisdom that cloaks in mystery that made Sakura intrigued. It was also this gloomy aura that made her keep herself from asking the reason for such a sad smile.

"Perhaps, there is a reason why the dowager duchess was so intent on protecting you. The world isn't as pretty as you thought it is, dear child. Even the meager years you have aren't enough to assume that you already know the ways of this big world; even for me, in my golden age, the world still surprises me with things both regretting and joyful."

Once again, that sad look passed through Madam Mihara's look before it was replaced by her cheerful façade she used in front of her clients. "He will be arriving at your doorstep at half-past ten in a fortnight." The older woman smiled. This time, it only tells a promise of happiness that lifts Sakura's spirit. "This is going to turn your life around, dear child."

"I know."

"Do you really?"

Sakura looked quizzical. "Deciding to partake the pleasures of the flesh to rid of youth is quite a life-altering event, in my understanding." Sakura answered dryly. She may sound so confident, but in her heart there prevails a cloud of doubt, filled with nervousness.

Madam Mihara's mysterious smile was not helping at all.

It was the fastest fortnight in Sakura's lifetime. It seemed like it was only yesterday, afraid to knock at Madam Mihara's famed bordello, still torn between crossing the line between a youthful maiden of twenty-eight and the spinster woman. In her mind, it makes perfect sense to rid of her maidenhead. When she becomes a spinster officially—which is on the Plymouth ball on the twenty-fifth—no one would be the wiser. After all, she has no husband to answer to at the night of her wedding.

(There would be no wedding to happen and more importantly, no husband to wed.)

Her mother would not even know, for she was spending the season at Bath, trying to recuperate from the megrims brought by her only daughter who can't find herself a husband to marry for all her seasons since her coming out.

The servants were out for the night. She made them all have a free night to themselves, convincing them that a spinster like her is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. All but Genma, the family's butler, was convinced.

At nine in the evening, Sakura was pretty sure that Genma was sleeping soundly in the late duke's study. His father's prized brandy was left half-filled by the time she managed to beat Genma at a game of cards.

Tiptoeing into the foyer, she heard the soft knock upon the main doors. Without wasting anytime, she pulled the door open only to find the most beautiful creature she had ever laid her eyes on.

She wasn't even sure if he was an angel or possibly the devil's temptation. No mere mortal should have such heartbreaking face.

If she hadn't known that he was a prostitute, she would have thought that he was a member of the _ton_. Fortunately, she knew better. And she also knew now why ladies, countless of them, transcending the age boundaries, had been paying fortunes to spend a night with this perfection.

His eyes were dark cobalt, glittering with surprise for a moment before it was replaced by mischief and arrogance. For his profession, she even thought they weren't capable of such emotion. His confidence amplifies his features and draws her attention to his beautiful face. There is just no other way to describe such symmetric arrangement of perfection. His cheekbones are prominent in such a way that compliments his aristocratic nose. His jawline frames his features in that sinful harmony, such face should not be even allowed to roam freely in the streets and alleys of London.

And for a fleeting moment, she thought to herself, "If this is the way to ruination, I would gladly traverse this path."

And surprising both of them, she pulled him inside, without letting an introduction from him, for a searing kiss that burned through her, branding her of a kind of desire she had never felt before. So strong, and consuming, all thoughts flew out of the window. And in that one moment, Sakura felt completion, like finding one's self through another person.

It was baffling how that could possibly be.

And it was only a moment too late when the handsome perfection pried him away, though he did not relinquish his hold of her.

"That is one hell of a welcome, but I should ask why you've kissed me the first thing?"

Sakura usually prides herself for her intelligence. But this is one of the instances when she doesn't want to be bothered by her deductions. She only wanted the ground to swallow her whole. Fleeing abroad would possible not hinder the rumor mills that would feed on this piece of gossip: _Lady Haruno, mistaking a gentleman for a prostitute!_

Because there is no other way to explain the devilish smirk threatening to spread over his features other than the grave mistake she committed. She doesn't know what came over her, but she still managed to confirm him, digging her grave deeper.

"You aren't the p—person Madam Mihara sent, are you? I mean, I thought you are too dressed sharply for a person of your profession—"

"Profession?" His tone was filled with amusement. The bastard had the gall to have fun for her mistake. By God, there should be some rule prohibiting people from making fun of other's mistakes!

"I-I merely thought Madam Mihara sent you for the appointment I made a fortnight ago."

There was a flash of darkness through his face before it changed back to his unusually stoic face. "And what, pray tell, do this appointment consist of?"

She tried to push him away, but his six foot tall of mass proved to be inconsequential compared to the force she applied. "It's not for a lady and a gentleman to discuss, especially in such public places such as doorways, Sir."

"Hn." He then let himself in, locking the big mahogany door behind him. "Is this private enough for you then, milady?"

She gasped at his indignation. "Do you take me for a fool? I would not trust you with news of the weather, why would I even tell a stranger my private consultations with Madam Mihara?"

"A lady should know better than consult with such an infamous woman, much less step into the street of her bordello. Pray tell, why would I even spare you mercy in merely _asking_ for the specifics of this so-called appointment set by Madam Mihara?"

"You are overstepping your boundaries, sir. I don't let strangers inside my home, especially this late at night."

"My name is Sasuke. Will you please tell me this appointment you had scheduled, Lady Sakura?" The stranger looked annoyed at her, and it pisses her off. He doesn't have the right to be upset at her, when clearly he had no business with her!

"My life is mine to dictate, _Sasuke_. Please leave my house immediately." She turned around to leave him but he doesn't seem fond of the idea of being left to fend off for himself. He caught her by the wrist and try as she might, she just can't shake his hand off.

"I thought you were the prostitute I hired from Madam Mihara's bordello. Is that fine with you now? Now leave me alone!" Her green eyes flashed with deep hurting, a pain coming deeper from mere humiliation of mistaking him for someone of such low social stature.

"No it isn't fine with me. After all, you were expecting services for this evening." He whispered darkly before catching her by the waist and turning her against the hard planes of his body. "Services I could offer, despite the difference in profession."

He held her tightly before she felt him nuzzle her cheek. There was a heavy charge of anticipation hanging over the atmosphere until the tentative lick he bestowed upon the spot below her ear. "I may not be cicisbeo, but a duke has to try doesn't he?"

"_Dear Lord, he was a duke!"_ was the last thought on her mind before she was washed away by the pleasure brought by kissing a duke. Sakura had a feeling that this pleasure could be produced only by Sasuke.

**a/n: inspired by **_**Suddenly You**_** by Lisa Kleypas.**


End file.
